Ai to Fukushuu
by Passing-Glance
Summary: Adopted from Dark Void Princess 21. Kagome's fate becomes interwoven with the young Earl of Phantomhive when she is adopted by Rachel and Vincent. But her past is not far behind her or, for that matter, a certain demon Butler. Ciel/Kag One-sided Sebby/Kag
1. Chapter 1: Lost is Found

**Adopted Story: ****Ai to Fushukuu**** from ****Dark Void Princess 21**

**[AN] T**here are changes. No freak outs!

**Ai to Fushukuu**

**|Chapter 1 – Lost is Found|**

* * *

><p>She had come too late.<p>

Standing beside a toppled tree, Kikyou stared out across a destroyed clearing. Her hollow eyes perceived the destruction before her but could feel very little emotion except for a faint disgust.

It would appear that Naraku had finally decided to strike after lying low for so long. His repulsive taint was present all across the field. Blood and miasma mixed together, saturating the ground and air with its putrid smell. The earth was overturned and bodies were strewn all along the misshapen ground.

It seemed that some of the villagers had tried to help, but to no avail. Seeing as their weak bodies would pose no challenge to the evil hanyou.

Kikyou scowled at the scene. What foolish imbeciles! Why they would bother to risk their lives when they could do nothing against the beast, she did not know. She simply could not comprehend their reasoning.

With a sigh, she stepped out from behind the busted maple in order to scout the area.

From the sounds in the distant, a search party had already been formed to find the victims of Naraku's raid. She would not bother helping them. She had only one objective in mind, and so would simply overlook all other distractions.

She moved seamlessly across the destroyed area, followed loyally by her soul collectors. A small crater in particular caught her attention, and she wandered in its direction.

In the center of the crater lay a figure. Unmoving, the body was sprawled on its stomach clutching to something that remained undistinguishable to Kikyou's eyes. But as she came closer, she recognized the artifact and the person.

Dispassionate eyes gazed at the woman whose scantily clad body was even more exposed as a result of her injuries. The person was greatly wounded, with lacerations littering her back and legs. Kikyou could not see how dire those wounds were as the blood that coated her body concealed their severity.

Frozen in place, she waited for any sign of life from her reincarnation.

But as seconds continue to pass by, she could see nothing that would suggest she was still alive.

Resolved, Kikyou turned to leave. Her reincarnations welfare was not her priority, and if the young miko were to die it would be of no consequence to her. However, she was stopped by the sound of a very faint chuckle.

"You would leave?" A voice croaked, gaining the attention of the elder miko.

Turning her head to the side, Kikyou gazed over her shoulder at the crippled form of her reincarnation—Kagome. "You _are_ alive." The blunt statement caused a hampered huff from the other miko.

Kagome could feel her strength leaving her. Nonetheless, she turned her head to the side and wearily stared at Kikyou. The beautiful woman had yet to turn back around. "N-not for long…I s-suppose." She managed to say with what little energy she had left.

Intrigued, Kikyou gave the young Miko her full attention. She observed the still form that had been and still was her rival. She could only feel pity for the girl who would die in a place that was not her true home. Despite her misgiving for the young woman, she could feel a shred of feeling for a waning soul that was far from the comfort of family or friends.

With a sigh, she moved closer. Kikyou descended down into the crater, where she came to stand beside Kagome's unmoving form. While so close, she could see that the young miko's injuries were extensive, and no form of healing would likely save her life.

Frowning, she crouched beside her beloved's companion and rested a reassuring hand against the battered remains of her shoulder blade. "I can do nothing for you." She said emotionlessly, her voice soft and lilting.

"I…" Kagome sighed, gasping in pain as a fitful cough brought forth blood from her punctured lungs. The crimson liquid seeped through her pursed lips, cascading down her cheek and onto the dusty ground below. She heaved a heavy breath, her reply stunted and quietly spoken. "I-I know." She stuttered.

"Then rest," Kikyou said.

Kagome shook her head slightly, her face contorted into a pain filled grimace. "I…can't, not y-yet."

Filled with surprise, Kikyou descend onto her knees and kneeled beside the young girl who shared her soul. She drew the girl's hair away from her face, feeling a slight need to comfort the dying miko. Moreover, she wanted to see her rival's eyes unveiled and open so that she would never forget them. They were so different from hers, yet so similar that she just needed to engrain the image into her mind. For reasons unknown to her, she had believed that their rivalry would continue beyond time. Instead, Kagome was submitting with little more than a shaky smile and tender acceptance.

Tears of gratitude, trailed down Kagome's cheek and she choked on a sob that only caused her more pain. But, she was determined to do what she needed to do.

The echo of rustling gravel drew Kikyou's attention to the agonizingly slow movement of Kagome's outstretched hand. She watched, transfixed as the girl offered her the nearly completed Shikon-no-tama.

Startled by the gesture, Kikyou gasped and her eyes widened minutely. She could vividly feel the encroaching despair that filled her heart. It was such a pure emotion, untainted by previous memories or pain. It was liberating in a way since the clay-miko had only ever felt such pure feelings a handful of times during her half life.

Kikyou understood what Kagome wanted, but was reluctant to comply. Even though she was surprised and even anguished, she could not nor did not want to accept the cursed jewel.

Slowly, the emotions Kikyou felt began to diminish and what replaced them was a simmering resentment and irritation. She moved farther away from her dying reincarnation and a scowl worked its way onto her face. "You would give this to me after all that I have done to you—to Inuyasha? What if I chose to give it to Naraku? You would be a fool." She growled.

Kagome continued to smile. She said nothing in return simply gazing at Kikyou with eyes full of understanding. But she continued to offer the Jewel even though it was evident that Kikyou did not want it.

Standing, Kikyou turned away. She scoffed, but did not leave. She could hear people calling in the distance for the little miko. Her gaze trailed back to Kagome, who remained strong in her endeavors.

"That's the one thing I envied about you." She told Kagome bitterly. "You were always so determined to see things through." Turning back around to face Kagome's disfigured form Kikyou once more kneeled beside her. "Your companions will be here soon. If you wait, you can give it to them. I do not want it."

Kagome's eyes closed and she breathed a shaky sigh. "You know…the truth." She whispered mysteriously. "You must." It was not a command, but Kikyou recognized the intent behind the words.

She sighed. Yes, she knew the truth. She knew that she and Kagome were the only ones who could adequately protect the jewel. Their soul had been destined to protect it and be permanently cursed because of it. Still, she did not want it.

The thing had only ever brought her misery. Even Kagome, the temporally displaced miko and the purest being she knew, was not immune to its devastating effects. For both of them, it had ripped apart their lives, destroying any hope of normalcy or a chance at true love. Instead they received pain and death.

"I cannot." She finally said after an extended silence that was only filled by the shouts of the distant search party.

Kikyou watched the young woman's eyes dim. Once more she stood, turning away. She would leave and keep to the shadows until the day that she was needed. She had accomplished what she'd wanted to do. Hearing Inuyasha's voice in the distance coming closer, she felt some satisfaction and relief at the fact that her reincarnation could very well survive.

But she never heard her reincarnations words or waning heart beat. "I'm sorry Kikyou, but you must." The girl whispered, her eyes shutting indefinitely with a final relieved breath.

Kikyou gasped as she felt her body throb with a pain she had not felt in a long time. She turned back around just as she crested the crater. Eyes filled with anger and resentment gazed at the futuristic miko. Her dead heart that she had long believed to be nothing but ashes came to life, thumping against her chest as her flesh toughened and stretched. The shikigami at her back dissolved into thin air, screeching their farewells to their mistress.

Kikyou continued to glare at the corpse of her rival even as Inuyasha crested the hillside. He called out to her, stunned by her presence, but immediately grew quiet when he laid his eyes on Kagome.

He ran to Kagome then, passing his long lost love, in favor of the already lifeless miko.

"It's no use." She told him, as he cradled the young woman in his arms. He cried her name in dismay. And despite her words he shook the girl's body in an attempt to revive her. But like she'd said, it was no use.

He looked to her then, his eyes filled with grief at another loss. Yet he did not know that with Kagome's death, he had also gained back what he had always wanted. "Did you do this Kikyou? Did you kill Kagome?"

She scoffed, but her eyes were gentle. "No," she said.

For some time, she simply stood at the edge of the crater, watching the heartfelt scene below her. Despite her newly gained life, she still was unable to feel much of anything. She figured it was a side effect of her previous death. She cared very little about it though, even if she should be overjoyed. Her new life had come with a price.

She huffed. "You never give up, do you Kagome?" She breathed hatefully, baffling the half demon who finally began to realize that his past love was no longer dead. "Very clever, you knew all along that I would never be able to refuse."

"Kikyou," Inuyasha murmured, gazing at the elder miko intently. He barely even noticed the presence of the monk and demon slayer or the growing group of sorrowful spectators. "What do you mean?"

Kikyou turned emotionless eyes on the half demon. "Can't you tell Inuyasha? I'm alive."

The audible gasps of those present were hardly a surprise, since the resurrected miko had expected such response. But the enraged growl from her beloved caught her off guard.

"I think you need to explain, Kikyou." Inuyasha demanded firmly. He was still wrapped around the dead miko, gripping to her as though his life depended on it.

Eyes narrowed in irritation, but she decided to give him his explanation. "Kagome selflessly gave back my life," She said. Inuyasha was flabbergasted, but she could see the gratefulness just beyond the other emotion. "But, in return for my new life I must take the Shikon."

"That's good though, isn't it?" He seemed overjoyed by her revelation. However, she would take some pleasure in raining on his parade.

"Unfortunately, it is not."

Inuyasha, along with those still watching, blinked in confusion. "What do you mean?" He asked.

"I mean, that her selfless sacrifice makes my acceptance her life selfish." She spat venomously, thoroughly resentful of the devious and underhanded trick by the young priestess. She had been smarter than she had given her credit for.

The disbelieving cry of the demon slayer broke her from her malicious thoughts. She let her gaze wander over to the warrior woman and monk. "You're wrong," The woman had declared, to the affirmative murmurs of the villagers. "Kagome would never do that to someone consciously. Not even to you, Kikyou."

The elder miko refrained from scoffing, but had to disagree. "Even so, my earlier refusal hinders me. I cannot carry the jewel and her soul now. I must accept one or the other or risk tainting the jewel."

"But that makes no sense." Inuyasha cried.

She turned to him, anger evident in her eyes and the growing scowl on her face. "It means that if I accept the jewel along with her soul, it will be tainted. If I accept her life only, then I will become a normal human woman. Before you arrived, I'd declined the duty of protecting the jewel, even though it is my responsibility as a priestess. To accept her life now would be selfish, as my heart will not willing protect the Shikon-no-tama. So I will lose my abilities if I continue to keep the entirety of our soul."

Miroku and Sango both sported disbelieving frowns. "And the other choice?" Miroku prompted.

Kikyou glared. "And if I accept the jewel, I must give up her life in order to keep it pure and untouched by selfish desires, becoming part of the undead once more. Do you see what she has done? I am forced to accept the jewel."

"No, Kikyou-sama, you do not have to." Miroku returned. "You have three options in front of you. You can take what you have been given and use it however you please. You can become what you have always wanted to be: normal. Or you can do what is right and accept the responsibilities of the Jewel. You do not have to take the though."

"But I do, monk." She replied. "I must."

Gazing up at the sky, her eyes fell closed. _'…because no one else can.'_ She finished thoughtfully.

And when the time came, she would return the favor. She would find Kagome, where ever she might be, and she would give the cursed jewel back.

.

.

.

_December 20, 1875 _

_London, England_

Their stay in London was to be very brief. Vincent had been called in by the Queen for something or another that was too secretive for Rachel's _delicate_ countenance. Rachel rolled her eyes in amusement. She didn't mind much, being very laidback and good natured. However, she did worry for her beloved husband's safety, so she always followed him on his business ventures. Besides, coming to London wasn't all bad. She was able to visit her sister and dearest friends, so it was always a treat of sorts.

She smiled as she walked down the lane with a male servant as her escort, wondering how her Angelina was doing. It was getting late, if the setting sun was anything to go by. But she was not far now. Her sister's home was only a block from the park that she was currently walking by, so she was not that far away. An hour's visit with her sister would do her some good and pass the time until her husband returned from his business.

Oh, she was sure that her sister would be delighted to see her. Angelina just loved hearing stories about Rachel's infant son Ciel, since she had not been able to have a child of her own just yet. Rachel knew, though, that her sister would be a good mother once she did have one. With how gentle and loving she was with Ciel she was sure she would be very good indeed.

"Mansfield," she called, striding forward with purpose.

Her servant trotted up beside her, his face kept solemn in reserve. "Yes, my lady?"

"Be a dear," she said with a smile, "Run on ahead and inform my sister of my abrupt arrival. I fear that I have left my calling cards back at the townhouse."

Mansfield blinked. "Of course, my lady," he said and with a slight bow of his head, dashed off in the direction of her sister's home.

But he did not go far.

Confused, Rachel watched her man servant stop dead in his tracks, staring into the fenced park in disgust and awe. She frowned as she came forward, displeased at his behavior though greatly curious. What could possibly stall the somber man from his duties, he was usually so very attentive.

As it was unladylike to shout, she paced quickly toward her servant. "Mansfield, what in heaven's…?" she began to say, but her words fell short when she came up beside him. "Oh, dear God!" She exclaimed.

In the park, lying in a pool of freshly spilt blood was an infant. The poor thing was bare to the world, drenched in after birth and left for dead.

Rachel's heart broke at the sight. "Quickly, Mansfield." She urged, and the man was instantly heading back toward the entrance of the park. "You poor dear! Don't you worry, Mansfield is coming and I won't leave. No, I won't leave you." She cooed at the silent child that stared at her with oddly inquisitive eyes.

Not once did the child cry out, simply staring as though it were dull. Rachel briefly believed that it might very well be so. But those eyes, they were so very blue and yet intelligent. It was very strange, but Rachel was sure that the child was not dim-witted in the least.

She heard rustling from the bushes just at that moment, and was quick to call out to her man servant. "The babe is here, Mansfield." Her voice was enough to guide the man forward and he emerged from the foliage not long after.

Removing his coat, Mansfield covered the child. He picked it up tenderly though with awkwardness. He had never had children and so the experience was new and all together foreign.

"Is she alright? She is not hurt?" The barrage of questions from his mistress prompted him to check. She was covered in blood that was still wet. The child couldn't have been more than an hour old. His black coat would be irreparable, but he hardly cared. He could not leave the poor lass to her unfortunate fate—to die, cold and alone in a park.

"Aye, the lass is fine, but I think she might be a mute." He said. It was disturbing how quiet she actually was. He knew very little about children, but he knew enough to know that a newborn was prone to crying. Having been present throughout his mistress's pregnancy as well as the birth of her son, he'd seen and heard as much from their little lad who'd cried off and on throughout the night.

Rachel was apt to agree. "Mayhap, nevertheless we must get her inside and call the authorities."

"I agree ma'am; best be quick." He commented mainly to himself. "Stay there, I'll be around in a moment." Rachel nodded her ascent and waited with fidgeting fingers for her servant and the baby.

During the few quiet minutes, she felt herself growing angry. How dare a mother just leave their child like that? What heartless person could do such a thing? Unknown to her, she had been speaking her thoughts openly, and to her surprise, she received an answer.

"I don't think it was out of spite, my lady." Her servant informed her. "Likely a prostitute, I think."

She sighed softly. He was probably right. She had never encountered such a thing in her life, and couldn't comprehend why someone would do such a thing. She truly couldn't believe that another woman would abandon her child so recklessly. She just didn't understand. "I just wish that it was not the innocent that was affected by the indecency of the adult's actions. It did not deserve such hardship so early in life."

"Aye," Mansfield agreed. "But all hardship is a necessary evil in life. It's always sad to see a child affected, but with the right guidance perhaps they can learn from it and grow stronger."

Rachel turned to her servant, astounded by his wise words and inspired as well. She had always known that he was a brilliant man underneath his gracious manners and lowly status. If he had followed his dream, he would have been quite the politician. "I hope you are right." She finally said.

Her eyes traveled toward the babe that was cradled tenderly in the arms of her servant. She was such a precious child. "Let us hurry. My sister will know what to do."

Resolved, Rachel and Mansfield made their way toward Angelina Durless' townhouse with the quiet child in toe.

They didn't even notice in their haste someone watching them. From the shadows of an alley, a figure observed the man and woman with calculating brown eyes. Those eyes burned with bitterness and a mean smirk formed on the mysterious person's lips. Without a word, the individual turned, disappearing into the shadows of London's cobbled lanes just as the Mistress and her Servant entered Mrs. Durless' home.

Loud, exaggerated cries echoed across the district as frantic servants ran throughout the night, delivering messages to and fro. The hysterical buzz followed the individual's departure as though in forewarning of things to come.

It was not long now, for the lost had been found. And now, only time stood in the way.


	2. Chapter 2: Elise

**Chapter 2:** Elise

**•••**

Out of desperation Vincent Phantomhive rode swiftly toward the home of his sister-in-law's. His horse was being pushed to its limits, nearly bumping shoulders with cantering carriage ponies and trotting thorough bred stallions. Despite this Vincent whipped the beast in an attempt to make it go just a bit faster. His attempts were met with a whining rebuttal.

London was as busy at night as it was during the day. Children, who were poorly clothed and despairingly thin, ran across the streets, begged on the corners, and scouted for ignorant pedestrians. Some patrons were shouting vulgarities while others were simply trying to catch a meal. Both women and men, some well dressed and others hardly appropriately attired, laughed uproariously or pandered behind the cloth of a delicate fan. Servants too were busy, running about walkways with arms full of parcels, holding to parasols, or opening carriage doors. Everywhere people were busy, everywhere life continued on.

The metropolis was alive, and the buzz was particularly loud. It was of little comfort to Vincent.

After arriving back at his townhouse to find the place devoid of the usual fluttering activeness that he associated with his wife's presence, Vincent knew something had occurred. Rachel was never gone from her home for long, especially now that she had Ciel. It was only then, after interrogating the servants had he learned that she had been gone for nearly three hours.

It was odd to say the least and unexpected.

He later discovered that was in attendance at her sister Angelina's townhouse. This wasn't wholly unusual, but the duration of her visit was. While Rachel loved her sister, she wasn't inclined to stay out after the sun's departure nor disturb her sister recent marital bliss. Rachel had never liked to be a nuisance or to overstay her welcome, and Vincent couldn't fault her for that.

So why then, was she gone?

Believing in the good of his wife, he'd waited. In his parlor, he'd sat with a glass of port watching and listening for any sign of his wife's return. An hour more passed and his wife had still not come home. His port decanter was nearly empty and his patience absent. Soon after he'd barked instructions to his groomsmen to bring around his horse, bound up the stairs to change into more appropriate clothes, then head angrily out the door to go fetch his wayward wife.

He was of the belief that it was not healthy for a woman of her status to be away from her husband and child for so long. Her place was as mistress, not as an adventurer. Decidedly, Vincent felt that he would need to correct this behavior before it was expounded upon. He could not have his wife—of whom he did care for—wander about London without his express permission or observation. She could be hurt, or worse, killed.

Turning a corner, Vincent's chestnut strode regally down the cobbled stones. His sister-in-law's home was not far from his own—merely five blocks in the quant suburb of Dermain Park. So, it was truly no time at all before he was upon her lane and could see the handsome five window, yellow brick façade of her small townhouse.

Her abode sat at the end of lane. He cantered up beside and was quickly attended by a young groom. He dismounted easily, before giving gruff orders for the boy to bring about his mistress' carriage—post haste. He did not plan to stay long. He was determined to drag his wife away if he had to.

On his way inside, he didn't even bother to take notice of the home's upheaval, far too absorbed in his own worries.

"You there," he called. The man, a prim butler of relatively viral age, turned in expectation. "I demand that you take me to my Lady Wife. She is here, is she not?"

The man's shock was evident. "Yes, my Lord, this way."

"Thank, man." Vincent nodded curtly. He followed after the butler, somewhat calmer.

They came to the formal parlor of Angelina Durless' home quickly enough. The butler went first, announcing Vincent's presence. Vincent could hear the silence that followed his calling, and he entered slowly—suspiciously.

What he saw upon entering was something he had not expected.

There standing at attention were two Scotland Guards, his wife, sister-in-law, and a babe.

"What is the meaning of this?" He demanded.

Rachel stood then, her eyes wide and pleading. Vincent melted under her gaze.

"My dear, you must forgive me. There were…extenuating circumstance that kept me from coming home."

He could see her tremble under his stare. She was obviously rattled by something. What, he could not say for certain. But from common sense alone, he had to guess that the stress was in relation to the presence of the child.

He came away from the door, and strode purposefully toward his wife. She smiled shakily at him, but did not back away.

"I can see that, but do explain."

He asked only her, though it was Angelina who spoke. "My Lord Brother, these two men here are Detective Jasper Cobbald and Constable Albert Freegard. They are here on my behest. Rachel found a child in the park, not a mile from my home. We felt it best to inform the authorities as is only proper."

"Rightly so," he commented. Turning to the two men, he shook their hands. They were not intimidated by his presence, which garnered his limited respect.

"My Lord, it is an honor to make your acquaintance," The younger man, Jasper, simpered.

Vincent was not amused. "Indeed, Mr. Cobbald. But I will ask that we skip these pleasantries so that you might explain to me all that has occurred tonight."

Jasper was unsurprised by his rebuttal, but was nonetheless sheepish. His partner on the other hand seemed almost amused. He was quick on the uptake while his boisterous young companion spluttered. "It's a simple case of abandonment, my Lord. Very likely a…less than virtuous woman left her child. I beg pardon to the ladies in attendance, but it is not so uncommon. Many of these women are unable and also unwilling to take care of their illegitimate progeny."

"I see that is unfortunate, and sobering." He was sincere in his regard. He could not even fathom abandoning his son. While the child was his heir and decidedly important, he had already fallen in love with the little boy that looked so much like him. It was saddening that_ this_ child would be without such an essential aspect of their life.

"Yes, indeed." The detective said. "Be that as it may, there are questions as to the child's placement. Before your arrival Lady Phantomhive and Lady Durless were just discussing with us what they thought should be done. I explained to them the circumstances and the likelihood of her placement with a suitable family. Even so, it is possible that there be none and if it is so the babe would be taken and placed in Church. "

Vincent blinked absently. While the situation was a grave one, he truly felt that it was neither his nor his wife's priority. "Your diligence is commendable Constables. I wish you all the good will in your task. However, I must beg your pardon for it is time that my wife and I depart. Come my dear, we are expected home."

He turned his back to the wide eyed man. His wife too seemed just as disgruntled.

"Dear husband, do wait." Rachel called. She reached out her delicately gloved hand, and touched his arm. The soft touch stopped him from leaving, and he turned to her—a question upon his lips. She seemed to anticipate him. "I feel that I have a…vested interest in the placement of the child. I would like to stay, if that be your will."

He did not wish to grant her this. He was almost angered by the suggestion in fact. But the look in her eyes gave him pause. There was determination in those eyes of hers—stark in contrast to the meekness that usually pervaded their depths. He had never seen such strong sentiments from her before, and was somewhat startled by it. He wondered briefly why she would feel such a keen need to stay, enough so that she would readily fight his decision.

At the thought, his eyes traveled across the room. They landed on the nurse-maid who he had not even noticed before then. The woman was murmuring softly to a bundle in her arms. Swathed in layer upon layer of cloth, bundled tightly with one small fist gripped tightly onto a piece of the nurse's hair, the babe was rocked from side to side and strangely silent. He could not see the child, but felt a keen need to see it. The feeling was a strange one, and something he was loath to foster.

His eyes returned to his wife, who was holding onto his arm firmly. He decided to speak freely to her. If she could persuade him, they would stay. If not, they would leave. He dearly hoped that she would not succeed.

"This is no concern of ours." He stated firmly. "This child will likely follow the example of its dame. Surely any emphasis that we place upon its upbringing will dissolve into nothing once the child is of a solid mind. I think it best that we leave now and let things be."

Rachel was not swayed in the least. A fire flickered in her sky blue eyes; it grew alongside her desires and was emphasized by her needs. She desired this child, but most importantly, she needed it. Something in the babe had sparked life back into her, and she was unwilling to let it die just yet.

"Perhaps, but what do we know of the future? It is not ours to predict, but we can choose to shape it." She said, staring challengingly into her husband's eyes.

Rachel knew that her husband truly was a good man, but she also knew that he could be mean. He wasn't given the name of Watchdog for nothing after all. He could be a dog, viciously protective and downright obstinate. She knew that if she did not give him a good enough reason to stay, then he would drag her out with no regrets. In this case, she was the one on the leash and she knew that she had only so much room to maneuver.

So, without letting him speak on it any more, she tried to argue her case. "If we don't try, my Lord, than we can expect very little as you say. She will, as Constable Freegard assures me, will be sent to a Poor-House under the Church's gracious eyes that or a convent. With no mother to protect her, she will likely die no matter the kindness she might receive. So young without a mother means that she will very likely not live beyond her first year, husband. If, perhaps a God fearing woman does take pity on the child, then she might live, but then she will be like her mother. We can expect nothing more than that.

You, my dear, know what those places are like." She continued, placing emphasis on his knowledge and stroking his wayward compassion. "In your line of work, you have seen the horrors that dwell within those buildings. You know that they are meant for little more than livestock. It is no place for a child—a precious child. She is innocence personified. I beg you, if not for her sake, then for me. Let's give her a chance to keep that innocence. Let us give her a home."

Her argument was reasonable, he had to admit. His resolve broke slightly. He knew of what she spoke, he knew that a child would not last where she would be sent. It may have been of inferior birth to them both, but it was still a child—a baby. However, he would try again to discourage her. It was simply none of their concern. But he could also see that she would resolutely argue her way.

"While I...commend your valor, it is unfounded Madam." He snipped.

He didn't understand why she wanted this babe. They had a child of their own after all. She should be taking care of Ciel, his heir—her son, and not some bastard child of low breeding and little worth. It was unsupportable!

"I will not discourage your passion for the less fortunate, Madam. It is without fault. However, I would then implore you to start a charity, as a woman of your station should. But to take in one of the flee-bitten strays is all together outrageous even to consider! It should not be borne." He disputed.

Rachel was extremely displeased. She retracted her hand from his arm, as though she were burned. Her eyes smoldered and her lips pursed with anger. The pretty face of his wife contorted, growing ugly with bitterness and rage. She was hellion in that moment, one that even Vincent feared.

"Was it not so long ago that my family was of such low connections?" she hissed scathingly. It was well known in proper society that her family had come from trade. They'd been new money and only recently earned a title.

Vincent frowned. "That is different. Your family is respectable."

Unsaid words hung in the air. Even Angelina was tense, and the Detective and Constable were looked decidedly uncomfortable. Familial disputes were never openly displayed. So to have the Earl and his wife in a heated debate in the presence of other parties was quite improper. But no one dared to move. They were all riveted, wondering who out of the pair would win.

Vincent could see that his wife was not backing down, and he could also see that they were being watched. He sighed after which he rubbed at his temple. "What life would you have her receive, wife?" He inquired tiredly. "Would you willing give her a life of little substance and hard work? Is that what you would give her?"

Rachel deflated. "No, I would not." She answered.

"But you are already attached." He said matter-of-factly.

His wife gave no immediate response, but the answer was obvious. After a while she implored: "We could give her a home, Vincent. We could give her a life."

She had already spoken to her sister about it. While Angelina was apprehensive and nearly as against the idea as Vincent, she had agreed that the child deserved a good home. If anybody could give her that, it was Rachel and Vincent. They were well off as well as respected. Their decision would be honored and the child's life would be secured. There would be no chance of her dying or of her rotting away as a soulless slave to the whims of blackguards. While she could never be a gentlewoman or receive a life among the gentry she would, at the very least, know love. Was that so very bad?

Vincent did not know what to do. "I do not think this is proper."

"I know," Rachel smiled kindly. She understood his dilemma. While these situations weren't unheard of, they weren't common either. And never was a child not of blood relation under a Noble House's custody. "But we could give her a proper upbringing, we could teach her about society and decorum. She could be happy."

"Or not, she might very well be shackled." He told her.

They both understood, that while the babe would receive all the fruits of a warded life under a good family, afterward she would be subjected to ridicule and scorn. Very likely she would become a servant or a governess in a home that was not so kind. She would be able to go no further than that and any marital alliances they might be able to procure for her would be of low connections. She would never be of the gentry, only a ward—only a charity case.

So was it worth it?

Rachel felt that it was. It was better than a life of poverty, sickness, and deprivation.

Walking over to the nurse, Rachel took the child from the woman and cradling it close to her chest. The little one had been cleaned up and fed generously. She was now sleeping, warm and safe. It delighted Rachel that the babe was so trusting. With her firmly in Rachel's grasp, the Lady Phantomhive returned to her husband's side, disregarding all other occupants of the room.

Vincent watched his wife carefully. She was so gentle, so motherly, it was endearing. When she returned with the child, he nearly gasped. The infant was beautiful.

Instantly he understood. He could not say no.

With a defeated sigh, he resigned himself to his fate. And then, the child's eyes opened, and his perceptions changed. Blue eyes, the same color as the Irish Sea gazed back at him. They were intelligent—eyes full of purity and depth. They were miraculous.

"I will…call upon my solicitor in the morning." He said, utterly defeated.

Rachel smiled. She touched her gloved palm to the child's forehead and delicately traced a cross on her forehead. "Elise…" she murmured. The other occupants of the room frowned in confusion.

"What did you say, Rachel?" Angelina asked delicately.

Rachel turned to her, smiling. "Her name: I want her to be christened Elise."

Angelina seemed to understand. "Yes, I like that. Elise Evangeline. For our mother and for this good favor on this day."

Rachel's smile grew even more pronounced. Yes she liked that very much. Looking to her husband, she saw approval, and she knew then that she had won.

_Elise Evangeline, welcome to the house of Phantomhive. _


	3. Chapter 3: Politics and Homecoming

**Chapter 3:** Politics and Homecoming

•••

Twenty-six days—that's how long Rachel had waited.

As promised, Vincent had gone to his solicitor. His inquiry had garnered a bit of suspicion, but with a few extra incentives all concerns had been taken care of. However, despite their desire to have Elise as soon as possible, they were forced to wait.

Elise was not a Phantomhive by birth, but a common whore's abandoned bastard. She was a rat among prized ponies, and thusly not given the same…attention as perhaps an orphaned heir or long lost second son. The law was in no way considerate to her plight and so pandered—quite a bit.

Rachel and Vincent had been forced to leave the child in the hands of the Constable and Detective, which didn't please them at all. Rachel had no doubt that little Elise was now in some poorhouse rotting away and starving. They couldn't possibly take care of a newborn, not as well as she. Those simpletons would be using her to gain food or money, but they would have no concern for Elise.

She was downright furious. How could this possibly have happened?

It had been twenty-six days. Twenty-six bloody days! And still there was no word on the progress of their petition—nothing at all!

Alongside this agitation, she was also worried.

The poorhouses were like their named described, very poor. They were dilapidated buildings, usually old factories that were temporarily turned into housing for the poverty ridden. Women of little virtue, children without direction, and destitute men occupied their dreary halls and did…_things _that were just unmentionable for a woman of her pedigree.

Under the Welfare Act these shelters helped to get some of the worst of these _people_ off the streets. They provided rations for the hungry and a roof for the weary, even if—truth be told—it was of bad quality.

Vincent had been forced by her Majesty to investigate within these facilities before. And he could affirm that the food was moldy and the roofs barely protected the inhabitants from the constant raining. Really, the buildings were damp, dark, and unequipped to support any life, let alone human beings. They bred disease and harbored death.

By society's dredge inhabitants they were known as _hell holes_.

The Parliament Members in the Common's hadn't expected how many individuals the shelters would receive—leading to the deplorable quality of their genuine services. They'd thought only a few hundred wretched souls were in need of such provisions…they were proved extremely wrong.

But Rachel supposed it wasn't all that surprising. You never expected the amount of vermin you had until you actually took a look in the attic.

These people had come in droves, like a plague of locust to infest and clutter the few pieces of fodder offered to them. The Crown had been incredulous at the discovery, but her Majesty had still been very generous. After the initial shock, she'd offered more money and services to those poor subjects who were without.

The sheer number prompted more than just a few reserve funds though. There had been an increase in the employment of private charities and governmental institutions for The Welfare of Human Life, Human Rights, and the improvement of circumstances for the working class and poverish.

However, there was little management of these affairs. And consequently a great deal of corruption and social stigma had begun to hinder the progress for these improvements. There were advocates on the podium, of course, especially in the House and Commons as well as activists on the street corners. But there was little effect out in the boroughs where it was most needed.

It was hard to think about. Sitting down demurely on a settee, Rachel placed her head in her hands.

She was alone at the moment. And so she gave into temptation. Hampered by worry, fatigue, and recently anger, she let herself slouch. The reprieve helped to somewhat calm her nerves. Constantly sitting up straight, and straining her back to maintain her posture, didn't help in regards to stress.

The past twenty-six days had been, for a lack of a better word, hell.

Rachel sighed. They'd waited a week in London without any response from Vincent's Solicitor or the Crown. It had been decided after another two days that they would return to their country manor. There was no reason, as Vincent said, for them to wallow in worry in dreary old London when they could be more comfortable at Esmere, the Phantomhive's ancestral estate. When the time came Elise would be sent to them or they could go and collect her. But as it stood, Esmere was the better prospect especially for their newborn son, Ciel.

Their son was a sickly child. When he was born they'd sincerely feared that he would not last the night. He was so small, almost inhumanly so. The doctor had explained to them that it was very likely he would be more susceptible to illnesses due to his unusually small size. A common cold for example, while treatable to most, could be extremely dangerous to him. It was best, as the doctor prescribed, that they keep him away from city life as much as possible until he was older.

Despite these hindrances, Rachel and Vincent couldn't be happier with their son. He was a pretty babe with startling blue eyes, dark brown hair, and finely sculpted features. He would grow to be quite a specimen and no doubt hold the heart of the English Court once he was properly presented. And, with his father's intellect and his mother's grace, he would likely be very adept. Indeed, they were most pleased.

Still, the mere thought of her precious Ciel made Rachel upset. Elise was likely wading in soiled clothes, uncomfortable, uncared for, cold and hungry. No one would do anything to help her as they likely couldn't provide anything. She'd be all alone without anybody to hug and kiss her, to comfort her when she cried or sing to her when night came. She would be defenseless.

Oh how she ached!

The poor, poor child! Where was she now? Who was she with?

Why weren't those fool lawyers doing anything for her?

Where was her husband?

Rising from her seat, Rachel moved toward the door intent on coercing her beloved into action. Her pursuit was fruitless, as just then the door to her living quarters opened.

A female attendant entered the room and promptly startled. She nearly dropped the silver platter, of which held a letter and crystal dish of sweetened fruit. She hadn't known that her mistress would be near, believing that the missus would have confined herself to her bay window to think.

"My Lady!" The young servant exclaimed. She curtsied swiftly after, embarrassed by her outburst. "An express has arrived, ma'am."

Rachel blinked. "Bring it here, Anna. Let me see it!"

Anna wasn't surprised by her mistress' intensity. For the past few days all the post had been treated with similar gusto. "Aye, there you be. I also took the liberty of bringing you a bite to eat. We can't have you getting sick, now can we ma'am?" Anna said as she placed the silver tray upon the table next to Rachel's settee.

Rachel quietly thanked her lady's maid, but otherwise didn't respond to the young woman's gabbing. Without a word to Anna, Rachel tore open the letter. It was addressed to her husband but as requested, all letters were handed directly to her. Vincent wouldn't be pleased, although he would understand after some gentle coaxing.

The hand was very elegant, flowing across the parchment effortlessly. The only defining attribute was the sharp slashes that spoke of a hurried reply.

She read the letter once, then once more, and finally a third time. Her eyes grew wide and she rose from her spot hurriedly. Rachel looked to her maid, who stood waiting to be dismissed. Without a word she swiftly left the room, the letter in hand. Her husband would need to see this.

Oh happy days!

_To Vincent Alfred Phantomhive, Head of the Noble House of Phantomhive, Earl of Gloucester, Lord DeNoah, _

_In regards to your petition of ownership concerning a ward of her Majesty the Queen Victoria's United Kingdom it is with pleasure that I give you good tidings in concerns to your entreaty. After nearly a fortnight, your request has been granted. The girl child, Elise Evangeline, shall be tied to your great estate as the sole ward of Phantomhive. Upon request from her Majesty the young child will be required to attend, on the date of your choosing, court for which she will be made known as distinguished in the eyes of her peers. Only afterward will the Miss be formally recognized by her title. _

_In addition, as written in your petition, Miss Evangeline shall gain the immediate improvement of her station. Upon attendance to her Majesty's Court as stated previous, she will be known as Miss Elise Evangeline, Ward of the Noble House of Phantomhive—a gift of grand proportion by our magnificent Monarch, the Queen. If she comes to exceed expectations in regards to her upbringing then I have no doubt that your acquaintances will be surprised to find a lovely addition to your merry party and upon acquisition of adulthood I am sure she will procure for you a solid alliance. _

_As requested as well, all documentation of these matters will be sent upon attainment of her Majesty's signature. Following this the child will be thusly released into your custody as ward of your estate until the point of her maturity. Expect by the twelfth of this month for the Miss to be delivered post haste to your grand home of Esmere. She shall be accompanied by a proper nurse-maid for the duration of her trip after which you can expect the servant to depart come morning of the next day. _

_Lastly, your decision to add the two pound allowance for the Miss Evangeline for the term of eighteen years, after which she shall receive one- pounds as dowry, has been noted and edited in your will and testament. The documents of agreement from the Bank of England have been sent for your approval. Expect to receive these contracts two days after the arrival of this correspondence. _

_In leaving, my sincerest salutations and congratulations! It is only by the grace of God and Her Majesty's kindness that such glorious new beginnings be received. May you and your wife be content upon the completion of the entreaty! _

_My deepest sympathies, etc._

_Sir Fredrick Mason Dowerhouse_

_Solicitor General of Dower & Mason Law Firm, London_

_Squire to Her Majesty the Queen of England and Ireland_

_Representative in the House of Commons _

_P.S. Enclosed are copies of all proceeding contracts for citation and record._

•••

The 27th of January came on the wings of a dove.

Servants fluttered about the ancestral house of Esmere readying a separate nursery for the baby girl. While it might have been more appealing to keep her with Ciel it was decided that she would not stay with the young scion. He was of such a fragile health that it might be dangerous for the two to interact without proper attendance.

Vincent had been the one to argue for another room. Not only was Elise not a Phantomhive, but she might be infected with some unknown disease from her wayward mother and father or even from her stint in the poor-house. They couldn't risk the continuance of their line for the comfort of their ward. And so, Rachel resignedly chose a room three doors down from little Ciel's nursery and had the servants decorate the inside with light woods, cool creams, and frilly pink accents.

She was determined to have it perfect for Elise's arrival, which would be happening sometime that morning.

Standing in the middle of the newly decorated nursery, Rachel directed two footmen.

While not strenuous or too time-consuming, it did keep her mind preoccupied. Without the distractions, she was a mess.

"I want that wardrobe to be near the side window next to the crib." Rachel declared. She waved the footmen to the spot by the window. With a sigh the two men did as asked, moving the wardrobe no more than a few extra inches closer to the crib. Rachel didn't notice. She merely prattled on. "The nursemaid must have easy access to both. And the settee, once you're done with the wardrobe, you will place it by the bay window overlooking the garden and pond. I would so love to sit and watch the ducks and I am sure Elise will enjoy it too."

The men followed her orders good-naturedly. Since the arrival of Mr. Dowerhouse's letter their lady had been in quite the tizzy trying to set up the young missus' rooms. They'd given up counting how many times they had moved certain pieces of furniture, adjusted portraits, and bickered with female servants over where to place extra parcels.

It was all good and well. Most of them were actually quite excited. None of the servants had ever been allowed to attend the young Master who was constantly under the supervision of his doctor, nursemaid, and parents. Now, they would be allowed to watch over and care for a child to which many of the older servants had longed to have and some of the younger anticipated having. All in all, the home was engulfed in happy gossiping and uplifting anticipation.

A cry came from the window, where a female servant stood. Rachel looked over to her with a frown. It was poor behavior to scream so shrilly, really there was no reason to be so melodramatic! "Lisa I expect better…" She began to say, but was cut off.

"But My Lady there is a carriage coming up the lane." The servant hurried to explain. She pointed out the window toward a drowsy little brown box making its way up the graveled lane of their home.

Rachel came over quickly. She noticed the carriage's postal insignia immediately and could not help but watch its progress with a growing sense of anxious concern. That would most definitely be her Elise.

She had come at last!

"Oh my!" She breathed as she pulled swiftly away from the window. With jittery hands she picked at her dress and hair, nervous all of a sudden. Completely forgetting about her earlier diatribe, Rachel turned and left the nursery. She said not a word to her servants, who seemed just as engrossed in their own primping. They were all so very excited.

Rushing down the staircase, Rachel moved toward her husband's library in order to tell him the great news. He was, however, already well informed of the event.

"My wife, there you are." He said, amusement coloring his voice.

Rachel observed her husband. He stood properly in front of his desk with his hands tucked behind his back. He had a gleam in his eyes and a small smirk on his face. He seemed quite smug.

"My dear Mr. Phantomhive, Lisa has just seen a postal carriage coming up the drive. I came to…"

A chuckle reverberated around the room. "Indeed, wife, I am well aware of the imminent arrival of the postal carriage." Vincent affirmed. He was smiling openly at his exuberant wife who blushed at his playful mockery of her.

All the while, Rachel delicately tucked a wayward stand of hair from her face. She then absently fiddled with her skirt while waiting for her husband to stop grinning. He was positively devilish sometimes. She really hoped that her darling Ciel would not turn out so.

Vincent let her stew for a moment before finally offering his arm. She took it graciously, with a radiant smile.

Despite her controlled façade, Vincent could see that she was still very vulnerable. She was nervous, it wasn't hard to tell. She'd been fretting over the young child's arrival for days. She'd spent all her time planning and decorating, trying to manage the affairs of the house but nearly being too worked up to think straight. Oddly enough, it was endearing if somewhat caustic to the overall welfare of his estate.

They made it to the front of their home quickly and were let out the front door by their butler. Already lined up, their servants greeted them accordingly. Afterward, they all turned to watch the arrival of the carriage. They were all eager, though well-mannered as any good noblemen's staff should be.

Finally, the dreaded moment came. The carriage rolled up to the front of their home. It halted with a silent command from the driver, its worn paint and faded insignia denoting that it had seen better days. Two attendants who were both wearing faded overcoats and patched boots stepped down from the back of the wooden box. One came forward to release the frail-looking wooden stair while the other unlatched the slightly off kilter door.

It opened outward, revealing a plump woman with a yellowing, home-crocheted shawl and outdated plaid dress. She stepped down from the carriage, nearly toppling it, and then swiftly turned back around to grab something from somebody else inside.

Rachel shifted on her toes, leaning forward to catch a glimpse of the little girl she'd saved. She couldn't quite see Elise with all the blankets wrapped snuggly around her, but she knew without a doubt that she was there.

The woman gave her appreciation to the coachmen and the other passengers rambunctiously. She tipped her head this way and that, smiling broadly, much to everyone's severe disapproval. But she neither noticed nor seemed to care, content in herself.

She turned to Vincent and Rachel just as one of the attendants placed her single, aging piece of luggage on the ground. "Ma tanks to ya lad! Ma tanks!" She said exuberantly.

The man merely tipped his patched top hat before hopping onto the back of the carriage. He patted the black top twice as a signal. The driver whipped the horses as soon as he did, and the carriage was once more on its way.

"Ma-Lord, Ma-Lady," the woman attempted to curtsy, but tipped precariously with everything that she held in her arms.

Fearing for Elise's health, Rachel stepped forward. "Here, let me relieve you of your burden. I am sure you are dreadfully weary from your long journey." She said graciously.

The nurse-maid looked startled by Rachel's seemingly genuine concern. "Ma-Lady ter's no need, no need a'all." But Rachel wouldn't have it. She was determined. She had waited twenty-six days and then another fifteen to be reunited with her darling ward, and she would not be delayed from finally holding her in her arms again.

"I insist Miss…" She didn't know her name.

"No Miss, ma'am," the woman's cherub cheeks flushed an even darker shade of red. "Name's Berdie, Berdie Maycast."

Despite her insistence, Rachel did not refrain from her formalities. "Miss Maycast," she annunciated, growing slightly exasperated with the exuberant woman. "May I?" she gestured toward Elise, and finally Berdie appeared to understand.

"Der me, ma'ppologies. Bet yer been wantin to see ta lil'un?"

Rachel smiled indulgently, but kept her eye on Elise's silent form that was hidden under a mountain of stained woolen blankets. The sight repulsed Rachel for some reason, and she resolved to discard the items as quickly as she was able. Soon Elise would be swaddled in the finest cottons and silk, rather than the lice infested pieces of cloth.

"She wer such a delight, she wer. No peep from the lil'lass. Slep' rite on tru the ride, she de'd." Berdie chuckled.

In comparison to her rather rough mannerisms, she handled Elise with true gentleness. When handing her over, she was very careful not to jostle her too much. Rachel was grateful to her as she'd noticed immediately that Elise was asleep.

In the back ground, Vincent watched the proceedings with a keen eye. Once his wife had the child in her arms, he stepped forward to offer his hospitality. "I must thank you, Miss Maycast, for delivering our ward to us." He continued before she could think to interject. "We have set up for you temporary quarters in the servants hall. Belinda here will show you the way."

He gestured to the oldest of his maids. She had been the head of his female staff since his father's time and was getting on in years, but was still able and willing. She was instantly in front of Berdie who seemed startled to be so quickly dismissed.

"Why tank ya, sir. Do tak car of da sweet lass." She said, just as Belinda began to herd her away.

Vincent was highly amused. "We plan to, Miss Maycast. You need not worry." His words gave her some relief before she disappeared through the main doors to the servant's quarters.

Stepping forward, Vincent came up beside his lady wife. He looked down at her with eyes full of love and gently placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. She didn't even startle, so engrossed in her perusal of the child in her arms.

"I am so…so happy." She told him. She placed a gloved finger upon Elise's cheek then slowly drew it down until it rested near the convex edge of the blankets. "Thank you, Vincent, thank you so much."

Contentment filled him at those words. With his hand resting upon her shoulder, he let himself feel whole for the second time in his life.


End file.
